Singing the Blues

It’s funny how the brain works. As I sat waiting for Andy Muschietti’s It to project onto the screen, I thought of what a disappointment it would be for the crowd if they had misconstrued the title – in for an unwelcome surprise as “I.T.”, the story of an ordinary Information Technology guy who struggles with work on a daily basis, popped up onscreen instead. Thankfully, that was not the case. It is very much a two-pronged film; a coming of age dramedy and a horror flick, the former works extremely well, the latter falls more into the average range. Set in the late 1980s, the town of Derry, Maine (Port Hope, Ontario a perfect stand-in the for the quaint locale that holds multiple mysteries) has six times the national average when it comes to disappearances and murders.

If thou darest, journey into the darkest depths of the supernatural gothic giallo thriller, Lucio Fulci’s 1981 horror feature The Black Cat, loosely based upon the Edgar Allan Poe short story that analyses the “spirit of PERVERSENESS” found deep within every human. A warning for those with a feline phobia, this can be seen as the Cujo of cat films. Available in either Italian or the English language, the meandering tale is absurd in a sense, but a whole lot of fun. For the first fifteen or so minutes, we are not exactly sure what is happening, yet Fulci develops an intoxicating aura. Set in the English countryside, it seems like a black cat, with eerie yellow eyes, is killing people in the quaint little village. Often showing the feline’s perspective, we swiftly stock its prey too, eyeing the next kill.

Perhaps the beginnings of a new sub-genre of horror, André Øvredal’s 2016 offering, The Autopsy of Jane Doe, follows up the similarly set The Corpse of Anna Fritz with another claustrophobic, morgue-centric tale. Perhaps we could drop the ‘rue’ from the classic Edgar Allen Poe tale and call them "Murders in the Morgue". With a cleverly concocted set up, the first half of the film toys with us, introducing not only the main characters, but the little threads that will come into play later on. Beginning with a gruesome murder scene (dead bodies are scattered throughout a house), Sheriff Burke (Michael McElhatton – Roose Bolton in Game of Thrones) is stymied when he discovers a half buried body of a young woman – the only one with not a thing wrong with it (seemingly). In a bizarre twist, it seems like those murdered were trying to escape the abode – and that no one broke in.

Mixing horror and a long unsolved murder mystery with clever touches of comedy throughout, the 2014 New Zealand film Housebound, written and directed by Gerard Johnstone, is a twisty tale that constantly keeps you guessing. Playing with his audience, Johnstone provides little teases and possible red herrings as we go along: a mother, Miriam (Rima Te Wiata), phoning into a late night program telling of her run in with a ghost in her own home, a rough around the edges hoarder of a neighbour whose pastime just happens to be skinning animals, a murder that took place in the house the story is set in, an orthodontic retainer that may be a clue to who committed said murder, an agoraphobic neighbour who disappeared years ago, bizarre power outages, a missing cellphone, a creepy toy bear that keeps reappearing, as well as a supposedly haunted basement – all play their part in building the tense, suspenseful atmosphere.

Claustrophobia is a key component of the zombie horror sub-genre. Though the whole wide world may be the protagonist’s playground, there is something ultimately daunting about having millions (maybe billions) of the world’s population transformed into deadly infected corpses – each one drawn to those few still attempting to survive, encroaching on their oh-so-important space. This concept is pushed to its most tense breaking point in the 2016 South Korean horror film Train to Busan, co-written and directed by Sang-ho Yeon. As you may have guessed from the title, most of the story takes place on a confined, tightly packed train (a perfect setting for this type of flick). The narrative’s driving force is a father/daughter pair living in Seoul, Seok-woo (Yoo Gong) and Soo-an (Soo-an Kim). Having recently separated from his wife, the family is in disarray. It is a complicated matter in which Seok-woo, a self-centred individual, sees himself as a sort of selfless father and husband, working insane hours as a fund manager for the betterment of his family. His daughter (and wife – we must surmise), see him as a non-existent patriarch – selfish and caring about no one but himself.

Filmed in the heart of the Adirondacks in New York State, Tribeca Film Festival Audience Award Winner Here Alone utilizes its locale to great effect. Capturing its rich vivid landscapes, be it rolling hills and mountains or lush forests surrounding a still lake, screenwriter David Ebeltoft and director Rod Blackhurst juxtapose the idyllic setting with a sense of loneliness, loss and secluded dread. Though at first glance, Here Alone may resemble your typical zombie flick, it is, at its heart, a searing character drama, while the infected flit around the periphery. Our main character is Ann (Lucy Walters), a young woman living by herself in the middle of a leafy forest which surrounds a chilly lake. The first portion of the motion picture plays like a taut, tense silent film, as we witness her struggles to survive. Lacking food, fighting the elements and struggling with her own pained past, she is utterly alone. By way of flashbacks, we are introduced to her baby girl and her survivalist husband Jason (Shane West), the one who brought her way out into the woodsy setting to survive. We slowly learn their fates over time.